I survived the Infection
by ricreaper
Summary: A man wakes up in London with no idea what happened or why he is even there. Unfortunately, the infected find him. He's got nowhere to run... ONESHOT. Read and Review.


_Copyright: Do NOT copy my idea! Thank you! Also, I don't own 28 days later, or 28 weeks later, for that matter._

I Survived The Infection

Ryan woke with a start and sat up, and immediately found himself overcome with dizziness. _What happened?_ _Where am I?_ He racked his brain trying to think, but to no avail. As Ryan slowly scanned his surroundings, he caught sight of a picture on the fireplace. He walked up to it and saw that it was a picture of a woman. He squinted; he had no idea who she was, where he was or what he was doing in this house. Again, he found his head spinning as more questions shot through his head like bullets. Ryan stumbled to the bathroom, opened the door roughly and went in; he splashed some water on his face, feeling the cold liquid running down his cheeks, and his head slowly began to clear, and he was able to think clearly.

After he was done he went down the stairs after finding some clothes that seemed to fit him well (He had, unfortunately, been completely naked when he woke up – despite his condition he was very thankful there was no-one around). Once he got down stairs he thought to himself, '_Where to go? Should I get food or go outside?_' He stood there for a moment, once more racking his brain for a solution to his dilemma, before thinking '_Screw it, I'll go outside._' Ryan headed for the front door, opened it and stepped outside.

At once he felt the warm summer breeze on his face; it was a comforting feeling, one that he welcomed eagerly. After this brief moment of pleasure, he noticed that the streets were surprisingly quiet, and there were newspapers scattered all along the pavement, like leaves that had fallen from a tree.

'Where are those damn environmentalists when you need them?' he asked himself out loud, his voice sounding groggy. Ryan picked one up and read the headline - "**Infection Hits!**" Ryan read the title a few times. '_Infection Hits. What the hell does that mean?_' He pondered, slowly turning his head to take a closer look at the street he was in. The complete lack of people in this street in London was beginning to slightly scare Ryan.

"Hello! Is anybody here?!" He yelled in complete desperation. Instantly he knew he should _not_ have said that, because something – _someone_ – ran around the corner straight at him. It seemed as though the man had been viciously attacked: his shredded shirt was covered in blood which, Ryan noticed, was gushing from his mouth, and he had an insane look in his eye as though he wanted to rip something apart limb from limb. This did not fill Ryan with confidence.

"Whoa, Dude! I don't want any trouble, OK?" Ryan yelled hastily, but to no avail – the man kept coming. "Stop!" The man didn't seem to hear him. Abruptly the man let out an ear-splitting scream, a scream that Ryan would never forget. Without thinking, Ryan bolted around the corner; he didn't look back, not even once. He just kept running.

Ryan had no idea what to do. He had just encountered something that he didn't understand at all. The closest thing he could relate to what he saw a few moments ago was a zombie from a film he had seen some time ago. He remembered watching that film – just a laugh, with some friends. He had smiled at the characters of the film, who ran away from the monsters, screaming their heads off. Now he knew how they felt. He was terrified. He had no clue what was happening, or why he was here in the first place. All he knew was that he needed to keep running from the monstrosity that was now following him, screeching like a bird of prey.

_Got to hide!_ Ryan's breaths tore at his throat. He felt as though his lungs were coated with sandpaper – every step he took caused more and more pain. He quickly changed his direction and ran behind a bin, the only place he could see to seek refuge in his confused and frightened state. Almost comically, the man – _thing_ – stumbled straight past him; he wiped his hand across his brow, clearing the coats of sweat off his face. _Who was that?_ _What was wrong with him?_ He had no time to think, he had to get to safety, a sanctuary. Surely there were other people in the city?

While Ryan was hobbling along the pavement, raucous screams tore at the air. Ryan slowly turned around and saw, to his terror, a huge crowd of people that looked identical to the man he had encountered earlier: blood stained clothes, blood red, dangerous eyes and they all had the same murderous look directed at him – as though they wanted to tear him to pieces.

"Shit."

**A/N Read and review, if you will.**


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